The Universal Symphony
by Drer'Ahv
Summary: The reality of the world is folding in on itself, and only a few may have answers. AU, focuses on Zim. Longfic in progress. Please review. Formerly "The Universal Foundation".
1. 818: The Primogenesis

Author Notes: This is going to be a little weird for a prologue, but bear with me. It's just the beginning explanation - but really, it will all make sense soon. Just read and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own Invader Zim. I also don't own Canada, if you want to play the Obvious Game. Though I wish I did. Canada is amazing.

EDIT: Credit where credit is due, The SCP Foundation belongs to...anon, I believe, since it's a collaborative internet project. I'm not sure of the original founder. We'll just call him John Smith for now.

Thank you, John Smith, for blessing my dreams with creatures of insurmountable terror. The only others to top your achievement are the Slenderman and that one dream I had where my mother and I- wait, no, maybe I shouldn't go on.

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**818: THE PRIMOGENESIS**

**(PROLOGUE)  
**

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**-Welcome to the SCP Foundation Database; "To Secure, Contain, Protect". What would you like to do?**

** -**_ ACCESS FILE SCP-818-01_

** -Query accepted. Please wait while we transfer you.**

...

**_CLASSIFIED INFORMATION_**

**_Item #:_**_ SCP-818_

**_Object Class:_**_ Euclid _

**_Special Containment Procedures:_**_ SCP-818 is to be contained in a 2.1 x 2.1 meter chamber (roughly 7x7 feet) reinforced with stainless steel metal plating on all sides. The humidity in the chamber must be kept below five (5) percent at all times to avoid discomfort in the subject. Sprinkler heads on the ceiling must be six (6) inches apart from each other in a grid-algorithm. They shall be wired into the walls to activate if subject were to try to burrow through the chamber. There shall be a small hole three (3) centimeters in the floor to serve as drainage._

_The entry door to the chamber must be reinforced by steel and bolted on both sides. It must be locked with any means of authorizing arrival/departure above 1.5 meters (5 feet). The observation window must be bulletproof and tinted, inset 0.3 meters (1 foot) into the wall with a width of 1.5 meters and a height of 0.3 meters. The window must be 1.5 meters off the ground._

**_Description: _**_SCP-818 appears to be a small child of about ten years of age and 1.4 meters (4.6 feet) in height. The subject possesses a pale green skin tone, red, pupilless eyes, and a pair of thick antennae on the top of the head that seem to serve the same function as ears. SCP-818 has only three fingers to each hand (including thumbs), all of which end in small claws. The subject carries on its back what at first appears to be a small metal discus (22 centimeters (nine inches) in diameter) that curves outwards. This has three small circles pink in coloration - the first being 7.6 centimeters in diameter at the top of the discus, and two lesser ones (both of 2.5 centimeters) to either side of the first. _

_ When 818 perceives something to be a threat it has been known to produce up to four mechanical anthropoid legs from this pack. Each leg is roughly 2-2.5 meters in length when fully extended and each end in a dangerously sharp tip. When separated from its pack it grows lethargic. After ten (10) minutes of separation, SCP-818 is clinically dead. Repeats of this situation end in the same result. It should be noted that upon the eight-minute mark the pack will attempt to attach itself to another living being. It is unknown what will happen if the pack is successful._

_818 appears to be as intelligent, if not more so, as a human adult. It is capable of completing complex math equations under a minute with no apparent sign of stress or agitation. It appears well-versed in chemistry and astronomy - however, it has little to no understanding of biology or geography and quickly becomes violent when it answers incorrectly. Its emotional state is constantly in flux, and it will go from quietly reading a book to screaming about its superiority. Random violent outbursts are not uncommon and are to be expected by the personnel. It seems to harbor a deep seated contempt and hatred for humans - when questioned why it will simply restate the aforementioned hatred._

_When found at Site [DATA EXPUNGED] it appeared to be unconscious with numerous bruises and scrapes that healed within the hour. It should be noted that during this period various whirring and scraping sounds were heard from within the metal pack 818 carries - it has been theorized that the pack goes into an overdrive-like state if its wearer become wounded. How exactly the pack and 818 are connected is yet to be affirmed, but it can be deduced that they have a symbiotic relationship. 818 seems to have an aversion to water, screeching if a damp sponge so much as brushes the skin. Water, it should be noted, seems to incapacitate the pack from healing while further damaging the subject. Additional tests shall have to be made for us to fully understand their connection._

**_Addendum 818-01: _**

_SCP-818 has escaped from the holding chamber, leaving bodies of the two D-Class Personnel that watch its cell overnight. There were numerous burns and gorges across the interior steel plating, origins unknown. The first body was found at 02/12/09, 5:03 GMT within the holding pen, sporting a triangular stab wound in its midsection. The second body was just outside of the pen, this time with three wounds - two in the chest and one in the ankle. The door showed no sign of being opened by force - the log showed no record of the door even being opened. We have dispatched several units of C-Class Personnel to track SCP-818 down. Its rank has been upgraded from "Safe" to "Euclid". Personnel are to be extremely cautious about approach, as 818 will attack if it is aware about their intent._

...

**-The following files ("#-818-1-02-LOG") are encrypted. Please enter a personnel ID and password to continue.**

_- PERSONNEL ID: 029143-231_

_- PASSWORD: ********_

**-Query accepted. Please wait while we transfer you.**

**-File #-818-1-02-LOG Accessed**

_- LOG DATE: 02/12/09, 20:32 GMT_

_SCP-818 escaped just this morning - we'll get hell for this, I'm sure. Not saying that it wasn't entirely expected of 818 - he made his hatred for us quite vocal every passing day. How he survived the thorough dousing the sprinkler system must have given him is beyond me. He managed to open the door while not opening the door - again, beyond me, even if one of the Personnel opened it for him it would register in the keypad. When we get him back we'll have to up the security quite a bit to prevent this from happening again, and as long as we're doing that I would like to sneak in a few personal interviews. We're losing Class-D Personnel like there is no tomorrow, what with the sudden influx of breakouts. Luckily most of them never get out the front door, wretched thin - _sounds of yelling in the background, static - _Shit. Time to go. Doctor Philbrick, over and out._

**-The file you have opened has ended. Would you like to access another?**

**- **l

* * *

PAK-legs pounded at the ground rhythmically - _clankClank-CLANKclankClank-CLANK _ - making him sound less like the stealthy Invader he knew he was and more like the corrupt SIR unit he once had. He knew they were going to come after him - of course they would, they wanted his skill as a superior being! - so he ran. Blood still laced the tips of his PAK-legs - Zim cursed as he realized it was probably leaving a trail. No time now - just keep moving. They couldn't find him - they could not contain a superior being such as Zim! It injured his pride even thinking about it. _Zim_, trapped in a room to the amusement of those pig-beasts. No, it was because he had _let_ them! Of course _he_ was studying _them_ as much as _they_ were studying _him_! But they could not keep Zim a bird in a cage, oh no. He had escaped! Left no traces behind save for bodies! Truly, he was amazing.

The sprinklers had proven to be a small problem - one hand traveled up to his left shoulder and fell back to his side immediately. The h_u_mans and their primitive _guns_ hadn't stopped him, oh no. They hadn't even slowed him down! But the sprinklers…oh, the _sprinklers. _How the stupid pig-beasts had become resilient to hydroxylic acid was beyond him. He could still use his PAK-legs, of course - the acid had no effect on that. Everything else, though…

_clankClank-CLANKclankClank-CLANK _

_"Christ, send in backup, he got our guard! Back-up to Sector 8-818, I repeat, back-up to Sector 8-8-"_

_Incoherent screaming. Gunfire. Static. Silence._

It was their own fault for getting in Zim's way. Really, had they expected him to stay in such a place when he was on a _mission? _It was his _job_ to eradicate human life - why else would the Tallest send him to Earth? Of course this Earth felt...different from the one he had traveled to initially. He did not remember much before the SCP incident, so he had nothing but vague hunches to go by. But things "feeling different" was not going to stop him from completing his mission, oh no - Zim had been given a mission, and Zim was going to do it! He was told to invade Earth, and so help him _he was going to do it! _Nothing could stop Zim from completing his mission, not weird bipedal pigbeasts, missing SIR units, or acid raining from the sky. He was _Zim_ - he was _unstoppable!_

"_We've got him down! Turn the valves on! Quickly!"_

_Sounds of rain hitting steel. Sudden inhuman shrieking. Metal flailing on metal. _

_" The disc! The d-""Watch out!"_

_A blind hit. A sickening 'shink'. The body goes limp. Thud. _

_clankClank-CLANKclankClank-CLANK _

He shuddered. His clothes were still damp and burned against his flesh - he had no time to strip out of them, and going bare skinned was simply out of the question, left him too vulnerable. A dead Zim was not going to help _anyone_, and the Earth was not going to simply take over itself! But the frigid night air bit him to the bone, and his shoulder throbbed with a rhythm to dance to. He had been running for _hours _- surely he would be far away enough by now? He itched to use his PAK-scanner, he _needed_ to see if they were coming after him, if they were within mere miles of him. At the same time he needed to rest, _yes, Zim needs rest_. But where to get it? Zim couldn't just stop in the middle of an open fie-

Far off, on the horizon, a farmhouse.

Suddenly Zim knew what to do.


	2. 914: Clockworks

DISCLAIMER: No matter how much I hate the fact, Invader Zim belongs to Viacom (read: The New World Order). The SCP Foundation belongs to the lovely, lovely internet denizens. Which ever goon wrote "The Old Man" is going to get a punch and a couple of ice cold beers from me in that order. That one kept me up at night.

Beta-read by the lovely Rylitah. No, seriously, she is amazing. Go check out her stories now.

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**914: CLOCKWORKS**

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**-MESSAGE FROM THE ADMINISTRATOR: **

_Mankind in its present state has been around for a quarter of a million years, yet only the last 4,000 have been of any significance. So, what did we do for nearly 250,000 years? We huddled in caves and around small fires, fearful of the things that we didn't understand. It was more than explaining why the sun came up, it was the mystery of enormous birds with heads of men, and rocks that came to life. So we called them 'gods' and 'demons,' and begged them to spare us and prayed for salvation._

_In time, their numbers dwindled and our numbers rose. The world began to make more sense when there were less things to fear. Yet, the unexplained can never truly go away, as if the universe demands the absurd and impossible._

_Mankind must not go back to hiding in fear. No one else will protect us, we must stand up for ourselves.  
While the rest of mankind dwell in the light, we must stand in the darkness to combat it, contain it, and shield it from the eyes of the public, so that others may live in a sane, normal world._

_We secure. We contain. We protect._

_

* * *

_

A human _barn_ was _not_ Zim's ideal hiding place - for that matter, anything created by those _pig-things_ was not his ideal hiding place. _But_, he told himself, _if__ Zim wants to hide, this is the best place_. They would never expect to see the great and mighty _Zim_ in such a worthless little hovel! It was genius, a mastery of polar opposites and psychology! But if they did find him here, well... it hurt his pride to even think of it. No, they would not find him - it had been a large field and a large forest, and Zim knew he could have veered off anywhere. To have barreled straight ahead - for _Zim_ to be predictable - was surely the last thing they suspected. It was this sort of genius he prided himself on.

Finding a hiding place within the barn was initially a difficult task. There was no pile of golden straws that the humans apparently harvested, no giant forks to use as makeshift weapons. The floor was concrete, ravaging any hopes of digging a tunnel. The stalls were incomplete, with meager wooden skeletons in place of walls, leaving him nothing to hide behind. The sparse few objects that _were_ in the room were primitive human tools, strewn carelessly across the concrete floor. There was a hole in the roof, allowing unwelcome moonlight to push through and illuminate various rafters - and he did not trust the human's architecture enough to climb on top of them. With a deflated feeling in his chest, he resigned himself to sitting in the farthest corner where the moonlight couldn't touch. Dwelling in the dark was not the ideal for his species, but it would do for now.

_"Think it's sentient, doc?"_

_Harsh light scalded his eyes - his first instinct was to snap them shut, try to wave the cause away with his arm. Blurry figures bent into his vision, all in shades of white and grey. There was a warning 'tic!' and the room became absent of a previously unnoticed noise - his PAK. His eyes slowly refocused, revealing the blurs as humans dressed in white and pale blue all around him. How long? How long had _Zim_ been vulnerable to the stink-beasts? _

_"WHO ARE YOU!" The sound rang against the walls - a small room. The creatures shrank back, startled but not frightened. Perhaps one or two jumped. It only took a few seconds for them to recover - "That answers that question - sentient _and _capable of English. We've hit the jackpot on this one," this was one to the left of him, blurred by the corner of his eye. What were these creatures, to think they could hold Zim back? They must be with someone! They all seemed completely oblivious of his superiority, blinded even! There was only one possibility, then, one conspirator interested in him enough... _

_"YOU WORK FOR THE DIB-STINK, DON'T YOU? ANSWER ME!" Zim shrieked. The humans around him whispered to each other, the only sounds __heard being__hisses and tsks. They scribbled on clipboards furiously. He tried to get up on his PAK legs - tower over these pathetic things, show them who is superior! - and was met with an uncomfortable pressure against his chest. No - they had him restrained! How could he have not noticed that? At the wrists and ankles and chest, all against a table. All metal.__One human stepped out from the rest - a male perhaps (The hair made it so difficult to tell!), young, about six feet in height. "Sorry, it was necessary. We needed to make sure you wouldn't try to run."_

_"Answer the question!" Zim spat. There was a moment of temporary confusion on the beast's face as he stepped back into the crowd of humans to titter something. Looking away, looking at him, looking away - why did humans always find the need to turn away from the very subject they were talking about?_

_"HUMAN FILTH CREATURES! ANSWER ZIM!"_

_The male turned back towards him, and said;_

He shook his head and shuddered, pressing his back into the wall. Zim did not yet understand this strange parody of a strange planet. He knew the humans were better at lying here - of course they were, how else could they tell magnificent _Zim_ a lie unflinchingly, and then pretend _confusion?_ Obviously this place was much different from the place he had landed on; the stink-beasts not only seemed less stupid, but more..._conniving._ No, _conniving_ was an Irken trait, and inferiors do not share traits of their betters! But still, there was something _off_ about these new humans. They knew far too much to be normal...

He jumped. What was that? Some sort of Earth-creature bumbling around in the night? It had sounded too small to be threatening, but this planet was often..._deceiving. _No matter how he swiveled his antennae, strained to hear anything more, the only sounds that reached him were of insects chirping away and the distant roar of transportation. Small dangerous creature or not, it was gone now.

_He was being herded down a cramped white hallway, one "doctor" flanking his left side, guards following behind._

No he wasn't; he was in a beat-up h_u_man structure. He was in a corner. He was not in a hallway. Zim would never be in that hallway again. Not that it was intimidating - how could Zim find such an insignificant place created by insignificant animals _intimidating_? But he still found the stay..._unpleasant. _Any Irken, even one as great as Zim, could agree on that much. Unpleasant enough to avoid, which was exactly what he was doing. Simple avoidance tactics.

_A red light in the corner; "Begin interview."_

Zim shook his head again, trying to clear himself from the visions. They must be simple PAK malfunctions. It was just having trouble categorizing after being shut off so many times. Yes - that was it. That had to be it. He was willing to bet the hydroxylic acid had something to do with it, too. Those _animals_ just had to test his sensitivity to "water", didn't they? He would show them! He could handle anything the _humans_ came up with! Zim was superior!

As he thought these things, he did not notice that the moonlight seemed to solidify and crawl up the walls. He didn't notice that the rafters had melted into a solid ceiling, and that instead of gaps in the siding there was a single window. So self-absorbed was he that he did not notice the two-legged shadows in the behind the window gaining shape and focus. He was blind to the sprinklers now molding themselves into the ceiling, and the body that was solidifying next to him. He was even blind to the sprinklers giving a groaning "sprrt" before the valves started spinning.

What he was not blind to, however, was the water hitting his skin.

Zim screamed.

He did not notice a fourth shadow running through the wall to meet him.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry about how short this one was, my inspiration was rock-bottom. I wanted to do the whole "one chapter every week" thing, but it appears I am several days late. Not to worry - I've been working on this every day, little-by-little. It's been a slow process, sure, but I have not stopped working on it. The rate's been about one paragraph a day. Hopefully a newer, better spurt of inspiration will hit sometime soon, else it will take forever to get anywhere.

I know some of you were a bit shocked that I had Zim kill two guards in the prologue. You have to remember - the guy wanted to kill the entire human race. That was his life goal. The only thing that really seemed to hold him back from that was his own incompetence. If he were captured by humans and experimented on, I think he would try to escape the first chance he got and kill anyone who tried to throw him back into containment.

For time keeping, the rough draft of this was completed on July 25th. The final draft was completed July 26th.

8/6/10 EDIT: I originally planned for there to be an update every eleven days; ten for writing and one for editing. However, it seems I must break that non-existent tradition. I am getting on a plane to Detroit tomorrow and will be without internet for the next two weeks. The third chapter is a third of the way done - I have been busy with packing and plane tickets as of late and have not been able to work on it as much as I would have liked. Expect an update near the end of August.


	3. 281: The Snooze Alarm

**Author's Notes:** Apparently I have to put something up here for the little layout lines to show up. I really wish we were given more freewill on layout; if we did, the title would be align-right, like a true heading in a lab report.

(because I am just that hardcore)**  
**

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**281: The Snooze Alarm**

* * *

_- _**Access to files "Personnel LOG-305-39275-76" gained. Please wait while we transfer you...**

_- AUDIO LOG DATE: 1-19-09, 8:31:25 GMT_

_ Back in the day, we only got a few of them a year, maybe two every three months. That was only, what, a year ago? Back before the shit hit the fan. The occasional terrestrial anomaly, maybe a crazy. That was really it. Not that it wasn't dangerous - hell no, it was one of the most daunting, alarming jobs you could have asked for. Really opened your eyes to that instinctive human fear of the unknown. If there was a day you weren't shitting yourself, it was because you were either the good doctor himself or filing paperwork. Certainly a job for the ones that liked to be kept on their toes, the thrill seekers. Learning the specifications for each entry, trying not to be killed when you slip up even once - really daunting. Casualties were a casual occurrence - pun intended, of course. Not so much if it was actually someone you knew, but if it's just some faceless D-Class? Who the hell cares, they knew what they were getting into from the beginning. Just part of the job description. It happens every day, anyways - something tries to escape, takes down a bunch of lower class personnel and gets driven back to the holding pen. Hell, it's almost routine enough to have it scheduled. "Alrighty men! To boost moral, on 8:00 AM this Monday we promised 109 it could run through the halls and kill a few of the more useless personnel we have!"_

_ But now it's more than just that. Either the "terrestrial anomalies" are inbreeding like no tomorrow in the wilderness, or something has happened. It's gone from a few a year to several dozen a month - not to mention how many of them can just screw with your mind. It's gotten to be so much that we've had to create new warnings - "Memetic Threat". "Existential Hazard". It wasn't like we just had daffodils and roses walking in here before - we had a ceramic hobo that would make people commit suicide, for Christ's sake. But now - worms that take over the mind, voices that cause anyone knowing Hebrew to lose their sanity, floating orbs that kill anyone with genitals. It's gotten insane. _

_ Even the new humanoid SCPs - humanoid, as normal as they get - don't remember a damned thing from before the Foundation. Those that do remember something, usually don't remember the word "Earth". The things they do remember don't even exist. Hell, some of the SCPs _themselves_ don't exist - scientifically, that is. Every scanner, every test - no readings. None. It's like the scanner sees empty air instead of a living bein_

_- TERMINATE AUDIO FILE_

_-_**Are you sure you want to do this? You will need Administrative permission to continue.**

**- **_PERSONNEL ID: 01-000000-000_

_- PASSWORD: ***********_

_-_**Query accepted. Please wait as we remove the file... (0 OUT OF 60MB REMOVED)**

**

* * *

**

**-Exiting Hibernation mode...**

Faint illumination barely managed to peak through his eyelids. His first instinct was made up of two - to check his shoulder for any remaining wounds, and to scan the surrounding area for living creatures. He was slowly made aware that - one, he was lying on his stomach, and two, that his stomach was not on cement. Perhaps his PAK had released a numbing agent to dull as it worked on his shoulder. The numbness in his belly, then, was a good sign - it meant that his PAK had recovered, and had recovered fully. He experimentally raised his damaged arm - no pain at all. As usual, it was like the damage had never been done. Stretching his arm to the side -

He opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. That was _not_ hay.

"Ah, you're awake." The voice seemed dripping with contempt considering the species it came from _(_it shouldn't be speaking to _Zim_ as an equal!)- Human. Human _female. _Of _course. _

He sat up and evaluated his surroundings quickly - Small room, walls graying with dust, a hole had been torn through the ceiling to reveal the rafters in the attic beyond. A cold unfurnished floor, with many thick wires leading out to what he assumed was the hallway, each of them ending in a far corner of the room with a human-made tool attached to each one. A small music maker - a human radio, he remembered - was to the opposite corner. Small amounts of writing on the walls, obviously measurements, though he could not read the language. Bed - he was on a small bed, low to the ground, probably consisting of a mattress and nothing else, with far too many blankets piled to his right side. Escape routes - There was a double-window in the wall opposite him, the glass appearing to be made especially thick - he could shatter it, but only after a struggle. The hallway - he would have to kill the human to get to it, and he would be lead into a piece of human architecture.

"You were out for some time," it said, wandering from its seat on the floor to the corner farthest from him. It picked up one of its tools - something black, looking vaguely like a gun but with a ridiculously large barrel with a drill in place of its opening - and absentmindedly fingered the power switch. There was a long silence, and then; "Found you in the barn - you kept screaming. I would almost say it was Russian if it didn't sound _too_ _much_ like gibberish," it grinned and looked at him, expecting him to join in on some sort of joke. He didn't, instead choosing to glower at her with a mix of impatience and contempt.

It sighed and replaced the drill-gun back onto the floor, unhappy that Zim did not join it on its little game. "I tried to bandage you up - you were hurt pretty bad on the left side - but every time I did you kept convulsing and tearing them off."

Pause.

"Not many people burn on contact with water, you know."

That was it. She knew too much.

In a flash of metal he was up, towering above the stink-beast - _finally, where he belonged _- two of the arachnid-legs raised, giving him the appearance of a praying mantis. But it was just as fast - a flash, a click, and it's gun was at his stomach - point-blank, one shot to go straight through to the PAK. The human was visibly shaking, not expecting him to get up _so fast_ and on such _advanced technology_, obviously afraid - despite this, it held the gun steady, eyes trained on the end of the barrel. If he tried to maneuver or strike, it would shoot - and it knew that if it shot, he would strike.

Pause.

"We sseem to be at an-impasse," it slurred, the words coming out halting and thick. It dared not lower its weapon. Zim dared not lower his.

"Zim does not know what a posse has to do with _anything_," he snarled, eyes narrowing.

"Zim," it said, "So _that's_ your name. I had been wondering..."

"Well _don't_, because I am not going to answer the question of whatever you were wondering about," he snapped.

She looked vaguely confused - _stupid h_u_man _- but -

"_You_ come into _my_ property, into _my_ house, and then you try to _kill me_," the gun seemed to be shaking less, gaining courage with every new accusation.

"I did not kill you!"

It glanced up to the PAK legs, hovering like twin guillotines. "Consider it a charm of mine that I haven't done the same to you."

"Ptah," he spat. "More like h_u_man weakness."

Its face hardened for a minute, the grip on the trigger tightening - he readied himself for an attack, tensing his PAK-legs -and then it paused, regarding him for a second. The weapon clattered to the floor.

"Go ahead and kill me, then," it said. It raised its hands above its head - _like someone begging a god for salvation!_ - and, with yellow-brown (long) fur spilling to the side, bowed its head down. He paused, trying to glean from this what he could...the human seemed virtually indistinguishable from the humans on the old planet. Skin was pink with tinges of yellow-white, and eyes with whites and tiny black spots in the center rimmed with color, (this pig-monkey had blue eyes). Five fingers to the hands and feet, all ending in opaque white square claws.

Despite this, these monkeys were different. Humans weren't supposed to give up -they were supposed to be proud to stupidifying levels, always going down with a (cheating, dirty) fight. This was _not_ how this species was supposed to act - with palms outstretched and head bent in cowardice. No human decided to die so easily. She had to have an ulterior motive - why would a human act differently unless they had a plan? Perhaps a small army hidden in a broom closet, preparing to take him down, or a mate. Humans were pack animals - solitary confinement was considered a punishment, even an embarrassment. This human in front of him - she could not have willingly moved into the middle of no where alone. There had to be guards - or even worse, relatives - somewhere close by.

"What are you waiting for? Kill me!"

If he did it, he could very well be ambushed. He did not know the map of the human architecture either, so if he was...

He retracted his PAK legs - landing none too gently on his knees - and then jumped up, brushing himself off as though nothing had happened. The only signs of an incident - blankets thrown haphazardly on the floor, a forgotten gun, and a bewildered human. _Genius._

"I cannot kill you, _hu_man," (loudly and dramatically, of course; _Zim has to put on a show if he wants to survive!)_ "As such a thing would be wrong."

With a flourish of the arm, he very carefully picked up the gun - _they called this a weapon?_- and presented it in two open palms. His head was bowed, one knee on the ground, antennae forked back in polite submission, with all of his thoughts amounting to murder.

The female stood - _of course, stunned by how non-threatening Zim was! _- taking the gun from his outstretched hands and turning it over and over as if she could not believe it to be real. She opened her mouth, paused - still observing the gun - and then said;

"I never carry any rounds with me, anyways."

Zim's antennae flattened - _all that for nothing?_- but he quickly regained composure. The threat of pack members had a sobering effect on him.

With that final act of arrogance, she gingerly placed the gun on the ground beside her - _did she have no other place to put it?_- smoothed out her clothing, and stood up. But this time it was not a militaristic stand - shoulders straight, chest out, feet together. This was one that spoke of a lax nature, one that would spend the majority of a party exchanging philosophical questions with an alcohol dispenser. This was not the _crème de la crème_ of human civilization.

She coughed, breaking his train of thought. _Disgusting earth-thing._

"Since you're not...not from around..._here_...would you like me to show you around?"

Perhaps he had looked less than impressed with this offer.

"N-not just the house...the culture. Everything."

Really, _perfect_. He grinned. A repulsed look flashed across her face.

"Zim would like that very much."

* * *

**- MESSAGE FROM THE ADMINISTRATOR: **

_In light of the recent escapes, we are deploying several of the tamed SCP-659 units to help with the investigation. In addition, we are increasing the security precautions for Site 4. _

_ All employees at Site 4 have received a memo explaining terms and security measurements; also, no new personnel shall be allowed to transfer to or from this site. Thank you for your understanding as we get this situation under control._

_

* * *

_

Zim lay on his back, his PAK causing an almost painful pressure in his spine. Getting up on the roof had been fairly simple, and though the tiles were scratchy the night sky comforted him. From here he could see Sagittarius 8, Canis Major, Beta Centuri... If he closed his third eyelid, made his sight blurry, he could almost pretend he was on his home planet, with all of the millions of stars burning above him and their own star, 55 Cancri, hovering just below the horizon. The single moon smack in the middle of his sight, however, sort of ruined this effect. _What sort of stupid planet has only one moon?_

His PAK kept buzzing at him - **Critical energy levels reached; hibernation in** 13 **minutes - **but, try as he did, he couldn't ignore it. His eyes kept flicking around uncontrollably - he needed to either recharge or fall unconscious. There was no way to charge on this planet...

_"We're just going to give you a little microchip. Don't panic, it will only make it worse."_

He could not keep his eyes trained on the stars without them falling back to the forest. The moonlight glinted off of thousands, no,_ millions_ of coniferous trees, making them look more like silver, shaggy stakes than actual plants. As far as the eye could see, trees far older than Zim (if such a thing were possible), rippling over hills and valleys and mountains. There was not a single spot left bare - in exception to the property Zim's human owned, which was vastly insignificant in comparison. Perhaps four fields, each a third of a mile in length and width, separated by stone walls and overgrown briar bushes. Beyond that were trees that, in turn, stretched beyond the horizon. Trees and trees and trees...

"Hey."

He jumped, flipping over to face the voice. How had she-?

There was that _human_ again, kneeling on the gritty tiles beside him, one hand squeezed against the roof to prevent from tumbling off. Her hair was a filthy brown-silver mess under the moon, and her eyes were completely shadowed by her brow - he decided this was better. Human eyes unsettled him.

"I didn't want you falling asleep on the roof and breaking your neck."

"Huh." He had a moment to himself and even made sure that she was unconscious - _asleep?_ - before he came up here. It just figured he had to be followed.

She sighed - _maybe she'll leave! _- and hugged her knees to her chest, digging her heels in to keep her balance. She stared blindly out over the forest, and for a moment he wondered where exactly human instincts ended and consciousness began. Maybe their minds were just filled with...nothing. Just blind little puppets that didn't question and followed orders..._perfectly._

In hindsight, maybe humans weren't useless after all.

_The forest, just going on and on and on..._

_It only took a few hours for him to get here. _

_"We're just going to give you a little microchip. Don't panic, it will only make it worse."_

_He had been here for a day._

"Hey kid, you feeling okay? You look a little scared."

"Lies," he spat, "Irkens do not feel fear!"

A little "hmm" was her response, and they both returned to looking quietly into the abyss.

No, Irkens could not feel fear.

They could, however, feel watched.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **MIND. MELTING.

I can't believe that this is the only thing I could come up with while I was away for three weeks. _THREE WEEKS AND THIS WAS IT._ This makes me RAEG beyond controllable levels!

And before anyone asks, I don't do OC pairings. I just don't. This character that has been introduced is not going to become his lover, his friend, or anything like that. Just his reluctant temporary roommate that may or may not die for a currently unexplainable reason.

**EDIT 9-4-10:** I have changed the name of the story from _The Universal Foundation_ to _The Universal Symphony_. Why? because _The Universal Foundation_ - while it sounds cool under most conditions - is just lame when the main "evil" association in your story is "The Foundation". Especially when your story has to do with multiverse/quantum physics/dolphins/spacey universal shit. So it has been changed to _The Universal Symphony_ _for this reason._

tl;dr version: Changed because it sucked._  
_


	4. ADMIN: The Conciliatory

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **EXPERIMENTAL GALORE.

LAVENDER TOWN TIME!

For future reference, all chapters with "ADMIN" in their name are short filler or explanation chapters.

I'm not quite sure if they're effective. If this chapter is confusing, or boring, then shoot me a review. I'll make revisions.

* * *

**ADMIN: The Conciliatory**

**

* * *

**

**- Welcome to the SCP Database - "To Secure, Contain, Protect". What would you like to do?**

**- **_OPEN HEBDOM.***_

**- Are you sure you want to do this? You will need Administrative permission to continue.**

**- **_PERSONNEL ID:__01-000000-000_

_- PASSWORD: ***********_

_- _**Query accepted. Please wait while we transfer you...**

**- ...**

**- Transfer complete. **

**- File **ITW-029-1** Retrieved**

**_- _**_Interview recorded: 2/12/09, 20:09:12 _

** Dr. Philbrick: **_Why did you steal the locket?_

** SCP-029: **_We needed it._

** Dr. Philbrick: **_Who needed it? Who is "we"?_

** SCP-029: **_You stole it. It was ours._

** Dr. Philbrick: **_Excuse me?_

** SCP-029: **(muttering to self, nearly incomprehensible_) _

** Dr. Philbrick:** (speaking into pager)_ I think we'll need som- _(sound of rubber screeching against tile, gags)

** SCP-029: **(screaming) _-ours ours ours OURS!_

(sounds of door opening, running. Screaming is heard - struggling)

(screaming is cut short abruptly, static)

**-END LOG-**

**- ****Log has ended. **

**- Please wait, system processing...**

**- ...**

**- File **INC-029-30** Retrieved**

**-** _Incident recorded: 2/12/09, 20:54:01_

** SCP involved: ****SCP-029**

** Personnel involved:** Dr. Philbrick, D-0291, D-07294, D-0292

** Date:** 2/12/09, 20:12:05

** Location:** Site 4

** Description:** SCP-029 caused the additional fatality of Dr. Philbrick during interrogation. Two D-Personnel were injured in attempts to subdue SCP-029. SCP-029 successfully contained after the incident.

**-END LOG-**

**- ****Log has ended.**

**- Please wait, system processing...**

**- ...**

**- File **MESSAGE-21209-092821** Retrieved**

**From: ***********

**To: **************  
**

**Sent: **Thurs, February 13th 2009, 09:28:21

**Subject: **Tracking SCP-818

**Att. File(s):** _818_

**Message: **Sir,

We are requesting use of the tamed SCP-659 variants for tracking SCP-818. We believe it has headed southwest of us, and as such should be fairly easy to find. As you can see from the files attached, "Zim" is an Euclid, and at first glance not a major threat to our operation. However, we believe that due to his erratic nature and odd appearance he could very easily set off a public outrage. Furthermore, 818 (as we have witnessed) is more than willing to murder, and in the instance that we do not catch 818, he will kill civilians indiscriminately.

Much like the police do not let a criminal run free, we cannot let 818 run free. For this reason we are asking you for permission to utilize SCP-659 variants in the retrieval of SCP-818.

We look forward to your consideration.

Site 4

**-END LOG-**

**_-_****Log has ended. **

**-Please wait, system processing...**

**- ...**

**- File **MEM-21309-200393 **Retrieved**

**- **_File created: 2/13/09, 14:03:23_

**MEMO:**

In light of recent attempted escapes (SCPs: 818, 029, 427) Site 4 has been issued new security protocols;

**-LOG INTERRUPTED-**

**- ...**

**- **MESSAGE-21409-080000** Received. Open email?**

**- **_YES_

**_- _**MESSAGE-21409-080000** opened.**

**_- _**_File created: 2/14/09, 08:00:00_

**From: ************

**To: *************  
**

**Sent: **Sat, February 14th, 2009 8:00:00

**Subject: **Deployment

**Att. File(s):** _newspapercreature_

**Message: **Sir, I thought you might find this interesting.

**- **_OPEN ATTACHED FILE_

**_-_**** Are you sure you want to do this?**

**_- _**_Y__ES_

**- Query accepted. Please wait while we transfer you...**

**- File ** newspapercreature** Retrieved**

**- ****The Sun Chronicle;**_ "Massachusetts's most reliable news!"_

**NEW ASHFORD - **Perhaps the stars have aligned just right or Halloween has come early; the populace of New Ashford are seeing ghosts.

New Ashford, a small town of about 200 people, has never been known for its paranormal. But now the people are in uproar - everyone is seeing ghosts now. For the most part, it's thought to be wonderful.

"It's an absolute gift," says Eliza, aged 41. "A gift from God. Initially we were afraid, but now," she motions to the air around her, "it's considered a miracle."

The populace, after several interviews, seemed to be right in line with Eliza's feelings. The "ghosts", as they have come to be called, are accepted as a part of everyday life - and a beautiful part at that. While we did not experience any supernatural sightings of our own, we did catch small distortions on our recorded interviews - static.

"Really," she says, "In times like these you could not ask for a better gift."

- _CLOSE ATTACHMENT _

_- RESPOND_

_-_ Attachment closed. Opening response...

**To: ***********

**From: ************

**Subject: **Re: Deployment

**Message: **It seems you were right.

-_ SEND MESSAGE_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **Woah. This one was very experimental. Hopefully I didn't lose you back there, man. Please, if you haven't reviewed before review _now_ - I need to know if this was effective or not. I don't want to do another one of these if it will just bore the audience to death.

ALSO:

FF censored half of what I wanted to put in here. Evidently you aren't allowed to use file names and email addresses.

That sort of ruins the atmosphere I'm trying to make.

**EDIT 9-29-10: **

ALSO ALSO:

I would like to thank those of you who have been reviewing, for reviewing. I can't tell you how high my heart jumps into my throat upon seeing a new review. They are truly appreciated - the constructive criticism especially.

I would like to to thank ReincarnatedRat, for being honest with me and my approaches. I can't tell you how many times I've thought back to it in the process of writing Chapter 5.

I would also like to thank Ritylah, for putting up with my ridiculously slow method of writing and taking the time of going over it for me.

And I would like to thank you all, from casual new-comer to long-time watcher, for taking the time to read my story. I can't tell you how happy that makes me.

Production of Chapter Five is going painfully slow - school's done a rather neat job of completely consuming any freetime I might have. When I'm not doing homework, I'm staring at a wall thinking about future homework, possibly while discussing the hidden politics of Final Fantasy VII with a friend. The closest to fan fiction I have been able to produce in the past month was a Global Studies project in which I named the main character "Dib". I'm fairly sure I failed that project.


	5. 223: A Photo Album

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **I apologize for how disgustingly _long_ it's been since I updated this. I will admit, for a time there I was convinced I was never coming back - I've just been feeling so fucking _drained_ all the time. I hate having seasonal depression; it makes me entirely undependable and unproductive for at least half the year.

WorldsColliding, I want to thank you for your feedback - reading the previous four chapters I have to admit they are either full of Narm, odd plot discrepancies, or nonexistent description of surroundings. On your concerns of confusion between Zim's thought process and the narration itself - this is actually intentional, though perhaps badly executed. I was trying to show the confused, disheveled state Zim was in - and since the story is told from Zim's point of view, I thought it would be a good idea to include his hallucinations into the narrative as if they were actually happening.

(Also, I don't hate your story. :) Towards the end of that review I was getting angry with myself. I was actually going to do a second review for your story that night, which would give a positive upspin on the first - Fate seemed to have different ideas, however, and returned me an error when I submitted. It was three at night, I was exhausted and feeling less than kind towards everything, and grabbed my blanket and went to bed without a second thought. I apologize for how harsh I was in trying to get my point across.

* * *

**223: A Photo Album  
**

* * *

**Date: **2/15/09, 5:02:02

- **File** plhc **Retrieved**

**The New York Times** - _"All the News That's Fit to Print!"_

**FRANCE** - The streets of St Genis-Pouilly were alight today with French protesters in an active battle against the opening of the Large Hadron Collider.

"We must be heard," asserts Avenall Fortin, aged 47. "We speak in interest of everyone."

-FILE MISSING-

_CAPTION: Protesters, pictured outside of one of the opening facilities of the Large Hadron Collider. The sign reads "Humanity Comes First"._

The protesters gathered in the early hours of the morning, groups of thirty or more congregating outside each of the six above-ground sites of the LHC.

The Large Hadron Collider, the largest particle collider to date as the name suggests, runs underground in a circular circuit beneath Switzerland and France. It will fire colliding beams of elementary particles together, ramming into each other near the speed of light, simulating the birth of a universe.

"It will revolutionize science as we know it," says Sergio Bertolucci. "This is the answer we have all been waiting for."

The protesters, however, disagree.

"Look at the risks," says Fortin. "They cannot just decide for all of humanity with risks like that."

And the risks, according to the protesters, are high; black holes, immense radioactive fallout, and unstable matter called strangelets, among other things.

The scientists, however, disagree. "You can't just claim the world's going to be eaten by a black hole and not get called out for it," says Valerie Blaise. "The black holes, if any at all, would be microscopic and evaporate due to Hawking radiation - the radiation idea is just silly."

The Large Hadron Collider is scheduled to fire on November 9th of this year. You can read more about it and decide for yourself a

- _DELETE ATTACHMENT  
_

- **Are you sure you want to do this?**

**

* * *

**

_"Hello, this is the house of Caroline Staurdevant. If you've gotten this message it means I'm not home right now - leave a message at the beep. Beep!"_

The sound of tinny laughing bounced around the room, before a electric, piercing beep.

"_Carrie, you're out right now but I thought I'd-"_

"Hey man, what the fuck?" She shoved Zim away, wiping her hands on her clothing, only to have him leap on her back again - clinging there like some large Technicolor tick. One PAK-leg over her eyes, one over her mouth, the other two holding for dear life.

"The device might be tapped!" he hissed.

"_-nyways, I just wanted to say hi. Call back sometime, alright? Bye!"_

She clawed at Zim's legs, and gagging, he let her go, landing with uncharacteristic grace on a nearby coffee table. She growled under her breath, a savage, raw sound (_even for a human!_) and smoothed down her wrinkleless clothes in a manner that seemed more habitual than necessary.

"I would _appreciate_ it," she said, "If you wouldn't go _batfuck insane_ every time the phone rang. People _call_ me, so you better damn well get used to it. Why do you care so much, anyways?"

He spat. "Like _Zim_ would care about petty h_u_mans."

She growled under her breath, and, in one smooth movement, yanked the phone wire from the wall while walking away. If there was any human emotion that stank more than fear, it would have to be jealousy.

It wasn't his fault is was true - why _would_ he care about humans? They were just so..._touchy_ about the truth. Another sign of the Irken superiority; they were actually _stable. _Not even ten minutes ago the human had joyously been showing him _photographs _and going into pain-staking detail on how to develop one - a large amount of the images had been of her laughing with other humans. Just when he thought humans couldn't get any more vain, they had to go and prove him wrong.

Not only that, but she had placed the pictures _everywhere_, a thousand diseased-looking human eyes staring down from the walls. It was claustrophobic as it was - did the human really feel a need to make it seem like there were even more people in the home? The house almost seemed to be built as an afterthought, with small rooms, smaller windows, and large amounts of clutter the human had intentionally scattered across each room. (At first the clutter appeared to be potted plants, but upon closer inspection the leaves and flowers were made out of cloth.)

It wasn't his fault humans were so..._needy. _Calling for each other at every hour, needing self-validation by placing pictures of themselves in their own houses, and crying over their primitive technology, _("Why would you do that?" _Caroline had screamed, "_All of my records were on there!". _This was, of course, after he had taken apartthe "fucking _motherboard_!" of her computer.) She had a change of heart towards Zim, it seemed, every sixteen minutes. They were unpredictable, and could be set off by everything - a show of curiosity, a misplaced word, a concern for his own safety (as displayed not even five minutes ago). _But_, he told himself, _Zim shall not have to see her for much longer._

_"_Right, _Zim?_" the same voice broke him out of his thoughts - she spat out the name like it tasted wrong. "I'm sorry. It's just been a long two days, and..."

One of Zim's antennae flattened, the other staying upright. What? She had changed her emotions again? They hadn't even hit the sixteen minute mark yet! He didn't remember humans being this way on the old Earth - was she just an incredibly defective one?

"...I can show you some maps, if you want...before we go anywhere specific."

Go somewhere? In the daylight? Surrounded by even more humans? She couldn't-!

"_No_!" he screamed. "_You can't make me_!"

Her hands flew to her ears and then back to their original position. They seemed to be held more taut - the one hand seemed to be clawing at the forehead.

"Okay," she breathed, "okay. Just stay here. I had to go to the store anyways...the atlases-"

"What are those?"

"Atlase-"

"What are they?"

"They're...they're books of maps, Zim. Books of maps. Many, many maps."

He coughed into his hand. "H_u_mans still keep books? That's-"

"I'll be leaving now, Zim."

The books, as they had turned out, had been difficult to find. The human seemed to keep them on shelves taller than she was, the upper levels of these shelves bowing with the weight of them. The shelves were always against walls - they must have not been very important for the human for her to build them so far out of the way, in any case.

The "atlases", as she had called them, were on the bottom-most shelf. There were dozens of them - atlases for Africa, atlases for Europe, atlases for the seas, atlases for the night sky. None of them seemed to be used, despite frail and yellowing pages.

The atlas of North America, however, was thinner than the others - in some places, the page numbers skipped, the primitive glue holding the binding together showing between the papers. The cover was ripped, and the inside cover had odd handwritten scrawling. The pages were folded in on each other and difficult to untangle.

The territory maps of "Canada" had stupid little notes written over it rendering it useless. They had nothing pertaining to the actual land - instead, they were "mommy's an angel" with a circle around a small town, or "i wana live here" with a line drawn completely off the page. The following pages also had notes, though written in slightly more elegant script - "Our old house", by a dot in the southern margin, with a long yellow line connecting it to a dot on the map - this one, labeled "uncle's piggies". "Uncle's piggies", as far as Zim could tell, was in the territory of Canada, right by several large acid seas.

He was confused. The landmass of this false Earth was identical to the old one - there was an extremely large sea that went all around the planet, seven continents, and the humans. How was that even possible? It wasn't! Did the humans know he was coming here?

He snapped the book closed in disgust. The atlases were useless, just plants they had placed here to confuse him. The human was not to be trusted. This was probably part of that little organization's territory, some twisted little place to give someone the illusion of freedom.

He spat on the ground, the carpet giving off a faint burning smell. Well, two could play at that game.


End file.
